All's Fair in Love and War
by highplainswoman
Summary: What happens when two strong-willed, principled men meet in a contest over unresolved legal issues in the "war on terrorism"?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own either "Law and Order" (Original Series) or "JAG"

A/N: First FanFict ever. Crossover between "Law and Order" series and "JAG". Three cheers to the writers on JAG for FINALLY bringing back the wit and humor that made JAG so unique in the first place. CAN'T wait until Friday's show--and did every other "Shipper" swoon over the previews?

"All's Fair in Love and War"  
0800 Military Time  
Mariott Hotel/Downtown New York City

Jack McCoy and his assistant, Abby, had just come into the room and were looking over their registration materials when she glanced up and gave McCoy an elbow.

"Well, would you look at that?" she said in a low voice.

Jack's head jerked up in confusion and she hissed, "Look just what came in the door!"

There were two military figures—one Navy, to Jack's uninformed eyes—and there was no mistaking that marine green. The tall Navy guy could have been a poster boy for the Navy. Abby's breath was sucked in: "Classic handsome." She turned her head to Jack and her eyes twinkled just a bit: "Is that what you would call 'Rock-Hudson handsome'"?

Jack shook his head and took another look. "Yeah. Those looks are pretty classic—but that Marine, Wow!"

Abby turned serious. "What—or who—are they?—and what are they doing here?"

Jack leafed through the conference program. "Ah—they must be JAG—look what's on the schedule." He pointed to a seminar scheduled for the next morning.

"Military Law and Civilian Courts—Jusidictional Boundaries." He flipped the leaflet over. "And look! Sessions on the Patriot Act."

Abby's eyebrows arched. "They're _lawyers_!."

"Yeah." He folded up the program, put it with the other registration materials, and tucked the whole package in his briefcase. He jerked his head and said,

"Let's go meet them."

"Ah, Mac! You're just jealous you can't wear one of those $1,000 suits." The Marine's eyebrows shot up and she tossed a mischeivious grin at the tall Navy man,

"unt-unt. I was just thinking about how nice I don't have all those dry cleaning bills."

Abby bit her lip from grinning. Jack was charging forth to introduce himself and she was trailing in his rear.

"Jack McCoy, EADA for the New York County District Court. This is my assistant, ADA Abby Carmichael." He said, putting forth his hand forward for a handshake. The uniformed man returned the handshake.

"Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., Navy Judge Advocate General Corps" He gestured to his colleague, "Colonel Sarah McKenzie, United State Marine, also of JAG Corp." The four shook hands in greeting. "We're both with Headquarters, Washington D.C."

"You come up from Washington for this conference?" Jack's eyebrows went up in a questioning manner.

"Yeah.. There's a couple of interesting sessions going on where the military judicial system and the civilian system seem to be meeting more and more these days and it was thought it would be a good idea to see what the consensus seems to be on several issues."

"Makes sense. There seems to be a great deal of confluence at times." He was thinking of the clashes between the government/military and civilian attorneys over the treatment of "unlawful combatants", specifically the prisoners in Cuba, among other clashes occurring in the civilian court system. On impulse, Jack waved his hand towards the tables in the room, set up for both breakfast and introduction of the beginning of the conference. "Why don't you join us for breakfast?"

There was a glance shared between the two military attorneys and a little noticed shrug of the shoulders. Jack and Abbey led the way.

Abby's jaw dropped when she saw Col. McKenzie's plate.

"Are you going to eat ALL that!"

The Marine office was shaking out her napkin to put it on her lap. The response came from the Navy commander, accompanied by a chuckle.

"Yeah. She's a bottomless pit when it comes to food—even dead cow stuff."

Col. MacKenzie just shook her head at her companion.

"Marines have to eat to keep up their strength, you know."

This was said in all seriousness although Abby thought she detected a note of amusement underneath the statement.

The last night of the conference was devoted to a dance, and everyone was in their finest. Abby wore an off-the-shoulder black shin-length chiffon and lace dress with stilleto heels. Jack, of course, had his tuxedo and, with his gray hair, looked like the distinguished attorney he was. Abby looked around for the two military officers and was surprised to see only one military uniform. Next to Commander Rabb, Mac was absolutely stunning in a bright apple-red slinky gown with a fair amount of cleavage. Jack's eyes were absolutely wide. But Abby's eyes were drawn to the Commander—in his dress whites. He was breathtaking.

They joined the two.

"Mac, I thought you would have worn a uniform?" Abby was truly puzzled.

"It's not necessarily required for females in the service unless indicated on the invitation to a social function."

"Well, you are absolutely stunning." Jack gave her a small bow from the waist in tribute to her beauty. But trust Mac to bring things back to earth. She nudged Abby in the ribs a little and commented,

"Don't you think Commander Rabb makes excellent 'eye candy' for the fairer sex? Dress whites and gold wings go a long, long way towards being a 'chick magnet'."

Commander Rabb was embarrassed to judge from the slight blush coming into his face. "Ah, Mac. I thought you were the one who said dress whites were 'overrated'!" There was a twinkle in Mac's eyes when she responded,

"On most men, yes. On you, well. . ."

All of this was making Abby's head spinning.

"Colonel, you're a contradiction in terms." Jack was having a thoroughly good time holding the attractive brunette in his arms as they twirled their way around the dance floor. A raised eyebrow and a puzzled look was her response.

"How so?"

"A very attractive woman in the military—the Marine Corps, of all things! This just does not compute. . ."

She laughed. "Oh, you mean the stereotypical macho muscular tattooed male. . ."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean."

"Don't kid yourself." She chuckled. "I'm a good kick boxer, plus an excellent marksman on the rifle range—among other things!."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "You just made my case. A drop-dead gorgeous woman in a spetacular evening gown. . ."

The music ended and he found himself yielding his place to her tall colleage.

"Mac, you did promise at least one dance with me. . ." Jack gave way graciously and made his way over the his own colleagues where he refreshed his own drink. He leaned against the bar, watching the two military officers dance with each other.

"Jack, that's got to be the most glamorous pair on the dance floor tonight." Abby's voice held a little envy in her voice and cause Jack's own eyebrows to rise in response.

"Abby, you're just as attractive as she is."

"Yeah, but which male on the floor can compete with the dress whites and gold wings and 'tall, dark, and handsome'. . ."

Jack grudgingly admitted the military couple clearly out classed everyone else there, including himself.

KABAM!

There was flying debris everywhere and shouts of fear and panic throughout the large ballroom. Jack thought he saw the orange and red of fire across the room, but after regaining his startled wits, his first thought after the explosion was for his assistant.

"Abby!" he shouted but with everyone else yelling, he wasn't sure his voice could be hear. Just then, he saw Abby shake her head. She was face down on the ground, as was he, and she let out a moan. He crawled over to her and shook her a little.

"Are you okay?" His voice was full of concern and, yes, fear.

She lifted her upper body up on her elbows and looked around her and let out a moan. "Yeah, I think so—although my back and legs hurt like hell!"

Jack turned to look down at his assistant's legs—and gasped. "You're bleeding."

Just then he heard a low growl from behind him.

"Looks like shrapnel wounds." It was the commander and the look on his face was grim. He glanced at his partner, who, although covered with the white drywall dust just settling down on everyone and everything, looked like she was also okay. "What do you think, Mac?"

Mac made her way over to Abby's prone body and made a quick survey. "Minor, I think. She will need to be checked out, but it doesn't really look worse than skinned knees, I think."

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. Then he noticed both officers' gaze on him.

"How 'bout you, McCoy? How are you feeling?" There was genuine concern in both voices.

"I don't know", he stammered. He started to get up and discovered his legs, too, were a bit shakey. He looked down and was horrified to discover a lot of blood coming from both legs. The officers' eyes went down. It was Harm who was first to speak.

"I don't think you should move, Jack. In fact, sit back down. We'll get a doctor or medic over here to look at both of you as soon as possible." For the first time, he looked around him.

People were moaning, yelling, screaming. There were some who were trying to get up and others who were crowding the exits, creating an even more dangerous situation. Jack saw the glance exchanged between the two military officers and a corner of Mac's mouth turned down in a frown.

"I think you're going to have to do your 'DI' thing, Mac." Jack heard the commander's low voice mutter

"I suppose so." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Then she looked at Harm. "You're going to have to back me up on this—you've got the uniform." Jack just saw the shrug of agreement. Then he found himself staring into blue/green intense eyes.

"Listen. Mac and I are going to try to bring some order to this. You guys need to stay right where you are until the emergency guys get here, okay?"

Jack just nodded and then reached for Abby to pull her into his arms. He set back against the lower back of the bar to watch what was going to happen, cuddling Abby to comfort and reassure both himself and her that they would be okay.

15 minutes later. . .

Jack moved Abby out of his arms and scrambled to stand up as he spotted a couple of familiar figures making their way through the chaos to him. He looked around to make sure the military officers weren't anywhere within close range and spotted them across the room, assisting in setting up the medical triage and helping to keep the crowds away from what was obviously a crime scene.

"Are you okay, Jack?" Lennie Brisco and his shadow, Ed Greene, approached with a worried look on their faces.

"It looks as though the injuries are relatively minor." Jack leaned against the bar to support his body and put forth his hand for a handshake. "Thank God you're here. Have you found out anything yet?"

The two detectives looked around. It was Lennie who responded first.

"Bomb—that's all we know at the moment. The medical people are taking everybody to hospitals—we'll check with them later for admittance/treatment lists to take statements."

Ed's comment was, "It looks as though it could have been 'messier'. Not as chaotic as I expected when I first heard the news." Just then the military officers came towards them Jack offered introductions as the pair got closer.

"Lennie, meet Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., US Navy, and Colonel Sara MacKenzie, US Marine Corp. " He paused and took a close look at the colonel. Her dress was in schreds and she was wincing with each step. "Are you okay, colonel?"

She grimaced as she approached. "My back's going to have bruise on bruise, I think—but yeah," and she flashed a small grin at her partner, "My bank account's in ruins thoughs, and the reason it's in ruins is also ruined." She looked down at her spoiled dress. She then reached her hand for Lennie's.

"And you are?"

"Detective Lennie Brisco, NYPD, and Detective Ed Green, also NYPD."

Both detectives shook hands with both officers.

"We'll need statements from both of you."

Both nodded. "Same goes for you and Abby, Jack."

Just then, the commander interrupted.

"Why don't you take their statements first, detective? They're injured while Mac and I are more-or-less okay."

There was a questioning look on Lennie's face. He glanced at Jack. Jack shrugged. A thought occurred to him and he turned to face the Commander:

"Where were you when the bomb went off?"

"The Colonel and I were on the elevator." There was a small pause and then a hint of that wide grin. "We had stepped outside for a breath of 'fresh air.'"

"Oh." There was a pause. Then, "Okay. Lennie, why don't you take Abby's statement first—I think she's got the more serious wounds."

Lennie nodded to his colleague. "Ed. . ."

"Sure." Ed leaned down to Abby, who hadn't bothered to make the effort to stand up. He started talking to her. In the meantime, Lennie had turned to Jack and raised an eyebrow. Jack took a very deep breath.

"Abby and I were standing here at the bar just chatting when the whole room just sort of exploded. Commander Rabb and Col. MacKenzie appeared out of nowhere and basically took charge setting up a very rough—what do you call it, Commander?—triage for the medical people. They also helped clear away the crowd from where it looks like the most damage occurred. That's it. I'm sorry—I can't really tell you anything else."


	2. Suspicion

6

JAG HQ,

Falls Church, VA

One Month Later

1130 (Local/Military Time)

The two detectives, visitors' badges dangling from their lapels on their suit jackets, stood at the entry of the bullpen, looking a bit lost.

"Jeeze, Lennie. I don't think I've seen so many military uniforms in one place except on television," Ed muttered under his breath.

Lennie grunted. "Well, it's been a while." He looked around and spotted a blonde in a pregnant white uniform ("Pregnant?"—he wondered in his mind) coming towards him. "You didn't serve, did you?"

Ed shook his head. Lennie continued. "It's been a while—Vietnam." He shook his head as the lieutenant—was that right?—came closer.

"Hi. I'm Lt. Harriet Simms—can I help you?" She stuck her hand out for a handshake. Lennie took it and shook it in greeting, as he introduced his partner and himself.

'Hi. Detectives Lennie Brisco and," he motioned back to his partner who stood just slightly behind him, "Ed Green, New York Police Department." There was just something in the air that propelled a more formal and dignified approach. "We're looking for—"and he glanced down at a note he held in his hand—"Commander Harmon Rabb and Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. We understand they work here."

The blonde officer dropped her hand as she nodded. "Yes. But they're both in court right now." She lifted her left hand to look at her watch. "They should be breaking momentarily for lunch, I think. Did you want to wait in either of their offices?"

Ed glanced at Lennie. "Which one did you want to interview?"

"I'll take the Commander. You can interview the Colonel." Lennie made an arbitrary decision on the spot.

"Okay." Ed turned on the charm and responded to the young officer in front of him. "There you go."

Harriet nodded. "If you will follow me, I'll take you to their offices. Did you need anything while you wait, coffee, tea. . ."

Both detectives shook their heads.

Precinct Office

New York City, NY

1400 Local Time (2:00 civilian time)

"Ya know, Ed, I don't 'get' it." Lennie was frown down at his notes. Ed knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Yeah, I know. There's a time gap in Commander Rabb's and Colonel MacKenzie's statements." He too was frowning and staring down at his own notes.

After a rather intensive three weeks of interviewing survivors, injured, and other witnesses—and sifting through the resulting mound of paperwork, the detectives had narrowed down contradictions and blank spots in statements to three people: the commander, the colonel, and a low-ranking sailor, one Seaman 2nd Class Ishmael Mohammed Rasheed.

"Let's go over the military statements again. Maybe we're missing something."Lennie sighed.

"Their statements agree with each other up to the point of just before the explosion. Colonel MacKenzie says they had stepped out for 'some fresh air'".

Lennie lifted both arms to his head and ran both hands through his hair in frustration. "And Command Rabb says they were on the elevator when the explosion hit."

"Not exactly contradictory, but not in total agreement, either." Ed's eyebrows came down in focused attention to detail. He glanced at his partner. "You think they're hiding something?"

Lennie replied, "I don't 'think' hiding; I _know_ they're hiding something!" The suspicion was laid out on the table.

Ed commented, "It doesn't make sense—both work in the military legal system, both are well-established officers—although in Washington, not exactly 'king/queen of the hill'—in Washington, generals and admirals are a 'dime a dozen'. And just exactly what connection do they have with a really low-ranking sailor on leave who just happens to be visiting family at the time? They should know better." He grunted. "I suppose one way of resolving this is to try to get their service records. That would tell us what kind of people they are or interview their colleagues—and their CO."

Lennie groused. "And raise the suspicions of the Navy Judge Advocate General himself? I don't think so."

Ed raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

Lennie argued, "Think. This is the military. They would protect their own."

"Man, you are paranoid."

Lennie shook his head. "I remember Vietnam and the way the military way 'back then." He gritted his teeth and closed his eye remembering a painful past. "The military lied to the President all the way down." He opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "I don't honestly trust the military AT all—not even the Judge Advocate General of the Navy—maybe, especially not him."

"Why not?" Ed was genuinely curious.

Lennie snorted in frustration. "They're all lawyers! Do I need to say more?"

Ed grinned and shook his head and then added, "I think we need to talk to Annita," as he picked up his phone to ask for some time with their supervisor.

The order came down: get those service records.

Precinct Office

New York City, NY

1400 Local Time (2:00 civilian time)

Ed and Lennie were both at their desks, gazing in profound frustration at military service records, Ed looking Colonel MacKenzie's service folder and Lennie looking at Commander Rabb's records.

"Half—at least HALF—of this record—" Ed waved his right arm over "his" folder—"is redacted! 'Classified' seems to be every other word."

Lennie grunted. "Well, this record isn't much better." He sighed. "A conversation with Anita is in order again." He lifted the handset on his phone to place the call.

There was another service record laying between their two desks, too: that of Seaman Rasheed. It was much thinner and nothing in it was "blanked out"—but, he, too, had not been cleared of suspicion.

After a conversation with their chief, the records went to Jack McCoy's office.

District Attorney's Office

New York City, NY

Next Day, 1000 (Military time; 10:00 a.m. Civilian Time)

Abby was at her desk perusing the service folders the detectives sent over, when Jack came strolling into her office.

"How's it going? Making any sense of the detectives' complaints?" He asked.

The frown on her pretty face deepened.

"It's all a blank. So far as I can tell, both are highly decorated officers—he's got a Silver Star, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, and both are very well traveled. Russia—twice, for God's sake—Afghanistan, Iraq—for both of them. But the details are not there. And, in Commander Rabb's case, there's a blank of approximately three months. There's nothing there!"

Jack's eyebrows lifted. "Really? I think it's time to call them in for a chat."

District Attorney's Office

New York City, NY

A week later

1300 (Military time; 1:00 p.m. Civilian Time)

"Stand down, Commander." There was enough steel in that voice to bring the commander to attention and to even make the civilian backbones snap to.. A chill went down Abby's backbone. "You will go get the car and bring it to the front of the building. I will meet you there." Col. MacKenzie handed keys to the Commander, who executed a perfect about face, face cold and "set in stone".

"Yes, mamm." He left the room, spine ram-rod straight to the elevators. In the meantime, the Colonel turned to face Jack.

"You, sir, haven't heard the last of this." Those furious brown eyes turned the full glare to Abby's face. "We will be getting in touch with you later on."

Abby shook herself from the shock that had grabbed her. "Your call will be most welcome." She found herself whispering. Her eyes followed the Colonel's retreating figure to the elevator where she joined the stiff-spined Commander. Her eyes only broke away when the two military officers entered the elevator. Then she turned to Jack.

"Are you okay?"

He was shaking himself.

"Wow! What was that?" A smirk started appearing around Abby's lips.

"Well, among other things, it looked like two alpha males going after a female."

That got Jack's attention.

"Huh?" He was thoroughly confused. "We weren't talking about any particular female . . ."

Abby shook her head in impatience. "I said that's what it looked like. I didn't say it was it was about a female." She peered at Jack. "Somewhere along the way, a nerve was touched." Now that she knew Jack was okay, she allowed herself a deep relaxing breath and a small chuckle. "You looked like you were more than willing to take on the Commander."

Jack put his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it, all along shaking his head as if to clear out the cobwebs.

"I don't think I would have wanted to even try."

At that, Abby did giggle a little. "That would have been like ramming your head into a brick wall."

"You know, that encounter reminded me of nothing more or less than a couple of bantam roosters squaring off." Abby shook herself as the memory of the confrontation flittered across her memory. She turned to look at Jack and giggled. "Or a couple of tom cats."

Jack's mouth turned down in a frown.

"I mean, just look at you. You're looking like a cat getting its fur back into place after a cat fight."

Jack caught himself smiling a little as he was reminded of Abby's Texas background. "You're right—I touched a nerve somewhere. Now just what was it I said that generated that kind of response?"

Abby frowned as she checked her memory. "You were 'informing' the Commander you would ask their C.O. if there was any reason either one of them would lie about their whereabouts." She sighed. "They seem to be such 'straight arrows'—either one of them—but they're obviously hiding _something_." She turned to Jack. "Any ideas?"

"Nope." He ruffled his hair with his hands. "We'll just have to wait to see what their CO says." He took another deep breath. The confrontation with the Naval Commander shook him more than he wanted to admit. "Any conclusions on Rasheed, by the way?"


	3. From One Hook to Another

1400 (Military Time): 2:00 p.m. (Local Time)

Same Day

District Attorney's Office

New York City, New York

"So do we call the Navy Judge Advocate General or what?" Abby was leaning back in her chair looking at Jack standing in her doorway.

"I guess we're going to have to." He shook himself, remembering the confrontation with Commander Rabb earlier.

A thought struck Abby. "Wait a minute. What's the command structure there?"

"Huh?"

"Well, think about it. Navy Judge Advocate General—God! No wonder they call it 'JAG'—easier on the tongue—isn't he the 'top of the line' for military lawyers?"

"What are you getting at, Abby?" Jack looked down at her, a look of confusion crossing his rugged face.

"Well, if he's the top of the line, maybe Nora should be the one calling him." She looked straight at him and waited for him to process that little thought. Jack's right hand went up to his head and "combed" his hair, thinking. Abruptly, he turned and headed back to his office. Abby caught up with him just in time to hear him ask his secretary to call Adam to see if he had a couple of minutes and, oh, by the way, get the telephone number of the Navy's Judge Advocate General in Washington D.C. She thought, "Oh, boy. The shit's going to hit the fan on this one!"

Just then, Jack turned out almost colliding with Abby. She saw his dazzling grin and accepted his thanks. "I really didn't want to talk to the military directly. Thank you for finding an 'out'."

They waited in Nora's office, while the call was being placed.

"Do you guys have anything on these two, other than a time line discrepancy?" Nora waited patiently. Jack was pacing up and down restlessly.

"No. As a matter of fact, they were instrumental in helping keeping the chaos down to a minimum." He couldn't help remembering the commander making a reference to "do your DI thing, Mac"—was that military-speak for what followed? He shook his head: he had very little to do with anything military. Just then, Nora's secretary advised her the call had gone through.

"Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Admiral Cheg—," her tongue tripped over the name but continued. "Chegwidden?" There was a pause.

"My name is Nora Croft, District Attorney for the county of New York in New York State." Jack had to grin internally. He would have been more provincial in forgetting there was more to this country than New York City and left off the "state" in the opening salvo.

"I need some information from you about two of your people." She looked down at a piece of paper she was holding in her hand. "A Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. and a Colonel Sarah MacKenzie."

There was another pause. She was waiting for his response. Jack—and Abby who was lingering in the background—could hear nothing of the other side of the conversation.

"We're still investigating the bombing at the Marriott Hotel a while ago—" Jack was waving a piece of paper in his hand with a date written on it trying to get her attention; she looked at it just briefly. "You know, the Judicial Conference held in May, and we've come across a discrepancy in their statements we'd like to clear up."

Another pause.

"Just this, sir." Even over the phone, Jack perceived, the military bearing had a way of making even seasoned politicians come to attention. It irritated the former anti-war protester just a bit, although he couldn't say why for sure. "Colonel McKenzie says they were out for a bit of 'fresh air' and Commander Rabb says they were in the elevator when the bomb went off. There's no way they could have been in the elevator—or even outside for 'fresh air'--and gotten back to the crime scene so quickly since the bomb disrupted elevator service."

The more Jack thought about the seemingly slight discrepancies in the two statements, the more the whole thing bothered him and the more significant the discrepancies got. Of course, he admitted—and would admit to no one else—it could be his anti-military bias might be exaggerating the whole thing. Just then, Nora snapped her fingers to get this attention and she asked Jack, "How long were they gone from the ballroom?"

Jack responded immediately, "We don't know for sure. We don't have any one who could tell us when precisely they left -- and I know they were 'on site' almost immediately after the bomb went off." Nora turned back to the phone.

"We don't know, sir." Another pause. "Fine. We'll look forward to hearing from you." She gave her phone number to the other party on the other end and hung up. She looked up at Jack. "He'll be getting back to us with those answers. Meanwhile see if you can't try to pin that absence down a little firmer. I can't believe no one noticed military uniforms, especially if they were the only military there, leaving the ballroom."

"Okay." Jack and Abby left Nora's office, more than just a little unsatisfied. Nora overheard Abby comment to Jack, "His was the only uniform there, remember? I would think it would be kind of hard to miss that white uniform." Nora didn't hear Jack's response. Never mind that both Jack and Abby had also been present and neither had seen them leave, either. Of course, there were lots of people there, but still. . .

1650 (Military Time): 4:30 p.m. (Local Time)

Same Day

District Attorney's Office

New York City, New York

Jack was stretching back in his chair and was about ready to call it good for the day. It had been a very long week and he was looking forward to taking the weekend off to ride up to the mountains on his motorcycle. He couldn't wait to feel the wind through his hair—it was his way of "relieving the stress" of the office—when the phone rang and he groaned. He picked it up. "What now," he thought.

"Hello. My name is Commander Sturgis Turner. Can I speak to John McCoy?"

Jack closed his eyes and sighed. "Speaking. What can I do for you, Commander?" The very word "commander" brought back a very unpleasant memory. But for some reason, it also brought back a memory of the colonel in her evening gown before it was ruined by the bomb—and her sense of humor and perspective about the whole event. Inwardly, he figured that mitigated the unpleasant confrontation between the Commander and himself—although he didn't know why he should "associate" the colonel with the commander.

"It's more a case of what I can do for you, Mr. McCoy." The deep, melodious voice spoke with deliberation and an even speech pattern. "I represent Commander Harmon Rabb and Colonel Sarah McKenzie." Jack's eyes snapped open and he was fully alert. His free hand started scrambling for the files on Commander Rabb and Colonel McKenzie. The deep melodious voice went on. "I understand you have a 'problem' with their statements concerning the bombing of the Judicial Conference they attended a while back."

Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"Believe me, sir, you shouldn't worry."

Jack's neck hairs started raising end on end. His anti-military suspicions started tingling, popping up all over his emotional radar screen. His mind screamed, "Protecting their own!"

The commander's voice continued. "I think we can clear this up for them from the civilian end, but I really don't want to discuss the discrepancies in their statements here. They could be in trouble at this end once the whole story comes out and I really would like to keep it relatively quite—at least as quiet as I can—at this end."

This left Jack's head spinning. "Huh?"

There was a small chuckled coming from the connection in Washington D.C. "Ever hear of something called 'fraternization'?"

Jack was even more confused. "Fraternization?"

"Yeah." There was a pause and Jack could sense the other party's wrestling with a decision. The deliberate speech pattern speeded up as Jack sense the other man had reached a decision. "Look, my girlfriend's booked at a nightclub there in New York and I was planning to come up anyway. Why don't we meet somewhere on Saturday and we'll clear this up from the civilian end, okay?"

Jack sighed. There went his weekend.

"Okay. Where do you want to meet?"

"Versasha is booked at the nightclub at the Hilton there in New York—I forget what the name of the club is—I can buy you drinks, clear this up for Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, and have a good time anyway." There was a "cat that ate the canary" tone to his voice. Jack discovered his irritation at having his weekend plans go up in smoke dissipate just a bit and actually found himself looking forward to it.

"What time?"

"How bout 2100—oh, I forgot. How bout 9:00 in the lobby of the Hilton?"

"Okay."

Jack hung up the phone with mixed feelings. He was still irritated at having still another weekend of "fun" time go up in smoke, but on the other hand, if Commander Turner could provide information that would help in the investigation of the bombing, that would prove a time saver in the long run. He sighed and hurried to grab his suit jacket. He was bound and determined to get out of the office before the phone rang again.

Hilton Hotel Lobby

2100 (Military Time) 9:00 p.m. Civilian Time

Saturday Night

Jack stood in the hotel lobby at the end of the registration desk. He had no idea what Commander Sturgis looked like and he didn't have a clue as to whom he was waiting for. He was therefore surprised when a tall—Jack would estimate 5'10'—black man in a navy blue suit and light pastel pink walked up to him.

"John McCoy?" A dark hand was outstretched for a handshake. Jack took it and shook it as he introduced himself.

"Call me 'Jack'." He withdrew his hand and motioned to the hotel nightclub. "Shall we?"

Drinks were placed in front of the two men seated across from each other in a booth, both agreeing this would be a more discreet place to discuss whatever Commander Sturgis had to disclose. Jack took a sip from his bourbon and leaned back.

"Well, Commander. What is it you have to tell me?"

Sturdis likewise sipped his martini and leaned back. He started the conversation.

"What do you know about 'fraternization' in the military?"

"Hell, I'm not even sure I know what the term means."

Sturgis set his drink down slowly and leaned back again. "Basically, it means inappropriate conduct between two members of the military. Ordinarily and primarily, it means conduct between enlisted and officer personnel. But it also applies to officers serving under the same chain of command. The main purpose is to preserve 'good order and discipline'." He paused. "In civilian life, basically the same rules apply, except for two things: one, the rules aren't written down and spelled out specifically, and two, such 'socializing' within the civilian community isn't penalized by official punishments that can be recorded in a person's military record—which could or could not be a career-buster, depending on circumstances." He paused and looked at Jack to see if he caught the drift of where this could be going.

Jack sat there, fingering his drink, and thought this through. "Before I lay out what I'm thinking, I need to get clear on a couple of points. What does 'inappropriate conduct' include? And what kind of punishment are we talking about here, anyway?"

Sturgis sighed. "'Inappropriate conduct'—especially given the context here—could include any kind of sexual contact. As far as punishment is concerned, that depends on the circumstances. How far did it go, how does the CO regard such conduct, etc." He shrugged. Jack's eyelids squinted shut as he continued to process the new information. Then his eyes popped open and he stared at Sturgis.

"Are you saying the Commander and the Colonel . . ."

Sturgis replied quickly and forcefully. "I don't know. I haven't asked." He grimaced. That sounded too much like the disastrous "Don't Ask; Don't Tell" policy the military had for several years towards homosexuals. "There's a reason I haven't asked. I can't report what I don't know for sure. I have my suspicions and the inconsistency in the time lines you're wanting to know about hints at 'inappropriate conduct'. And, as an attorney, you should know it's better for me not to know for sure, at least not at this point in time."

He paused and turned the drinking glass on the table around and around before continuing. He looked back up at Jack and his eyebrows shot up. "At the moment, I'm more worried about the careers of both Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, given the mood of our CO." He raised his hand as he could see the gathering clouds of protest on Jack's face. "Before you say anything, let me add I know there's bigger issues involved than two rather distinguished—and spotted--" Jack heard the small chuckle and wondered what that was about. "careers. As far as I can see, in that perspective, two careers are a couple of grains of sand on the beach, so to speak. However, I see no reason to possibly ruin two people when there's 'bigger fish to fry'. Do you see what I mean?"

Jack had the feeling he was personally "on trial". He looked at the black man sitting across from him who was, to all outward appearances, pretty casual about the whole topic but was coiled up like a rattle snake ready to strike. ("Damn!" He was going to have to tell Abby about this—the analogy was something she, with her Texas plains background, would thoroughly appreciate.) He instantly decided to clarify a couple more points before deciding how to react emotionally. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a small quiet chuckle at himself: "Deciding how to decide, Jack? He quickly shoved that thought out of the way. "Tell me your honest opinion: do you think they had anything—and I mean anything—to do with the bombing?" A vague thought clarified itself instantly: "And are you 'playing' me—trying to lose my focus on a possible two primary suspects when the third doesn't have the brain power to concoct a scheme like this?" Damn it, anyway. He really wanted to be irritated—the anti-military bias ran deeper than he realized until just this moment—but this man, sitting across from him, was military and also very personable. Jack discovered he really didn't want to be mean about all of this.

Strugis bit his lip and studied the man sitting across from him. After 30 seconds, he took his arm down from the back of the booth, leaned forward, put both hands around the thin stem of his martini glass, and leaned forward. "No. Absolutely, positively no way." He didn't want to think about the very remote possibility—although highly improbable—scenario involving Clayton Webb and the CIA. He hesitated, blinked, looked at Jack again, and sighed. "As for your second question," he decided honesty was the best policy in this case. "In a way, I guess I'm 'playing' you—trying to remind you going after two highly decorated officers is diversionary. I don't know what you have on the third suspect but what I am telling you is there is no need for this particular subject to go any further than this if you will accept my word—on my honor and oath as a military officer to defend this country AND officer of the court that they had nothing to do with organizing, planning and/or execution of the bombing."

Jack was impressed, despite himself. The sincerity of the man just practically oozed from every core of the man's body. He himself was surprised about his reluctance to "let go" of his suspicions of the military "couple". On the other hand, it's very possible Commander Turner had just saved New York City some bucks, both in terms of time and labor hours. He sighed. "So what you're telling me is the discrepancies in time in the two statements are due to an 'illegitimate' love tryst?"

Sturgis just nodded. Jack shook his head. "I guess I can believe that. That's the position I'll take—for right now." His voice turned a little grim. "However, if I have reason to believe there's more to this than that, I will come after them."

Sturgis finished his martini and moved to get up after glancing at his watch. "Fair enough. It's just about time for Varshasha's first set. I promised you a good evening. Let's go have a good time."

Jack followed Sturgis further into the nightclub, grabbing stage side seats at a table and place an order for a couple more drinks. He settled back to enjoy at least one good night of the weekend and found himself inordinately pleased that he got to accomplish at least one major goal in the investigation with relatively minor effort—that of eliminating a couple of suspects. He had no way of knowing Sturgis was chewing on the inside of his cheek, concern about the situation Harm and Mac inadvertently found themselves in, especially given the current environment at JAG HQ. Admiral Chegwidden was on the warpath. Would withholding this particular bit of information hurt or help Harm and Mac?


End file.
